FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Keero loved old antique shops like this. There was a smell that couldn't be explained by the age of the building alone. It was all these artifacts: the rusty wood-stove, the box of vinyl records, the dust collecting on the unsettling porcelain figurines. But the best part was that you never knew what would turn up here.

The weight of his sneakers made the old wooden boards of the basement stairs creek. He spent some time pursuing. You need to walk past everything once before you actually consider buying something. He usually didn't buy much of anything, but it was such good inspiration to consider what all these old things must have seen.

Here was a shelf of old books. They would come and go as they were bought and rotated. There were definitely some new ones in here today. They looked quite old too: yellowed pages, binding coming unstitched. One in particular was in suspiciously good condition though. The volume was tall, and leather bound. A print of a squirrel climbing up a great oak tree was pressed into the flat of the spine. There were no rules about not taking a look at the contents before buying. Besides, nobody was looking. Keero took it down and turned it over to the cover.

He expected to find a title, but there was none. Only another, deeper print. This time it was of a circle of squirrels, all chasing each other's tails in a ring. Perhaps this wasn't a book, but some kind of journal.

Lifting the cover, Keero saw that it was indeed written in English, though it was handwritten in a flowing script that must have taken a long time to pen. How old was this? It couldn't be that old. It was in such good condition, just sitting in this basement in the open.

Dedicated to those who chase the Fae creatures of the Wylds. Let this tome show you their strange aspects, and how to deal with them. Be warned that the student must come to understand this tome in order. Later information taken out of context WILL have undesired consequences.

Okay. It made a bit more sense now. It was clearly a very well-made fantasy book. The design was so evocative. Very genuine. Idly, Keero flips though some random pages further on.

…And should you find yourself in need of traversing the oaken branches, repeat the psychic mantra as should be well-disciplined in the student by this point: “I offer my body for a time to the aspects I call to. You shall find me open." Whilst your intentions remain clear, stay in contact with the oak tree, and any present Fae should hear you. Should it fail, be certain the area is active, and has entities present once more.

Wow. Keero shook his head, blinked a few times, and shut the book. He thought it took itself very seriously. More seriously than he gave it credit for. Who wrote this? He turned the book over, looked on the last page… nothing. No author mentioned. How was he going to look this up online later? “Mysterious squirrel book"? He decided he didn't really need this on his shelf at home, and put it back. Still, he filed the memory away as one of the stranger things he'd seen here at the shop.

He arrived back home later that day. Keero had recently moved to this place. It was so nice to have a backyard to oneself. It required a bit of maintenance, but he enjoyed keeping busy. After dinner he decided to get some fresh air while the sun was setting. The golden hour was such a calming time of day.

He hadn't noticed at first, but as he looked up, he saw that several of the trees at the edge of the lawn were oaks. They were decent sized too. Not towering, elder trees, but taller than most around here. Lo and behold, there was even a squirrel up there, chirping at him. They do that to warn others of possible danger. The little thing scurried away, bounding from one branch to another until it was gone.

What was it that weird book said? He hadn't thought to look it up yet. It had slipped his mind until now. He approached the tree and felt it's bark. He picked up some of its fallen acorns and muttered to himself as one does when you are sure nobody is listening.

“I offer my body… for the reflections I see. I am open? Something like that…" He looked up at the branches and smiled. It would be kinda neat to be able to run up and down the branches so nimbly. He let the acorns fall out of his hand and returned to the house, idle fantasies of fairy-squirrels fading quickly as his thoughts moved to what he ought to research on the net tonight.

Keero was running through the branches on his four nimble legs. He used his large, bushy tail for balance, and his quick mind judged the distance between jumps. Up the trunk! The straight vertical climb was no obstacle. His back feet twisted backward to provide optimal grip. Up here was where the best acorns were, of course. As he turned to head out onto the branch, something made him stop. Sitting on the edge of the branch was another squirrel, but its fur rippled with strange colors. Two tiny horns swept back from its head, glinting like silver. They bent and swayed like a liquid suspended in solution when it turned its head.

“Well?" It said without words, or language. “Are you comfortable in your new skin, flesh-creature?" Keero backed away on his four legs. He had never seen a squirrel like this before, and he didn't know what it was talking about. He had always been in this skin. He turned to run, but he was clumsy. He was getting too big for this branch! He tried to claw at the bark, but his nails were dull and useless! He was slipping! To the sensation of his bare, human hands scraping against the trunk, gravity rushing under him, he awakens with a jump.

Keero prepared breakfast with unsettled thoughts of the dream he had. Absently, he stirred some scrambled eggs in a pan. The longer he did, the less appetized he was by them. It was odd, since he put them in the pan in the first place fully intending on eating them. By the time they were done, he was so repulsed by them he threw them away and just had to cereal instead. Thank goodness it wasn't too sweet.

He sat at his kitchen counter and contemplated the dream, taking his time with his cereal. He wasn't prone to dreams that vivid, or that strange. All that would have been strange enough, but this occurred the night after seeing that book and… speaking that prayer? He shook his head, pushing the thought away. It wasn't going to solve anything thinking that way. He put his finished bowl away and decided to do some digging online. He might find something about that book.

An hour passed. Keero had seen children's books, folklore wikis, fantasy novels, but nothing quite like what was at that store. It didn't help that he was apparently so stressed he was itching! There was no rash to explain the itches, but his clothes felt like they caused undue irritation on his skin, like it had become more sensitive overnight.

If he couldn't find it online, perhaps it was prudent to go out and buy it. If it was going to cause him this much paranoia, he might as well get it. He went over to the counter where he left his keys and snatched them up, only for them to fall out of his hand. His thumb wouldn't close on them for a moment. He flexed his hand a couple times. Weird. It was fine. He stooped to pick up the keys, and left for the antique shop once more.

On his way into the shop, he passed by the owner: an older woman fond of large costume jewelry. He paid her no mind as he went back downstairs. Upon reaching the shelf, he combed through the books. It wasn't in its original place. He squatted down, looking at the very bottom shelf to see if it had been tucked away. This position felt quite natural. His weight could rest on his haunches. His hands didn't need to support him. They were free to take out some of the books and check them. Nothing. Perhaps it was up on top of the shelf where he couldn't see. He rose up and places his hands up on the shelf. He lifted a leg to climb up, but then put it back down. He doesn't need to climb the shelf. That would be weird. He reached up and brushed the top of the case with his hand. No books there either.

Frustrated, he went back upstairs to ask the owner. He'd spoken with her idly about some of the pieces he'd seen a couple times before, but never really got to know her.

“Excuse me. Hey. I'm looking for a weird book I saw here yesterday. It was um… leatherbound, with squirrels printed on it. No author. All handwritten inside. It's not on the shelf anymore."

“Hmm… Actually, I think someone bought that first thing this morning. I had only been open a few minutes when they came in the door. Sorry. Looks like someone beat you to it." He thought about asking her what they looked like or what she knows of them, but there was no point. He wasn't about to track a guy down just to get another look at the book. It was just a dream. He had to get over it.

“Ah, damn. Thanks anyway."

He went back out to his car. As he sat in the driver's seat, he noticed his mirrors were off. He hardly ever needed to adjust them. Come to think of it, his seat was a bit too far back as well. Driving back, his clothes continued to itch. With one hand, he reached under his shirt to scratch a spot on his chest. A lurch of panic rose up in him. His fingers dug under a spot of thick, fine, even hair that he was certain was not normally there. Just to make sure, he gave it a tug. It felt quite nice, releasing the itching feeling, but pull it did, bringing up his skin.

He almost pulled the car over right there, but he managed to calm down enough to get back home. The second the door was closed behind him, he pulled up his shirt. Anywhere he had hair before had become thinner, straighter, and lighter. Places he barely had any hair at all had begun to sprout the same kind of hair in blotchy patches. It was subtle, but it was there. He stood there in his kitchen, just running his hands over his stomach, chest, down his arms, if only to reassert that it was actually real, and happening.

“Ooookay… Itching. Hair growth. Sure. They're medical conditions that might cause this, I'm sure." He needed a better view of this. He went to his bathroom to use the mirror. He leaned in close to look at his own face, and rubbed a hand over his chin. He hadn't shaved today. His stubble was usually quite coarse when short, but not now. It was fine, and smooth. It was even lighter in color. That's when he felt one more thing that made his heart pound. A dull, fluffy feeling at the base of his spine. He almost dared not, but he reached back. The top of his ass crack was stuffed with the same hair, bushy, fluffy. He dug his fingers in, running them along the spine. Having lived in this body for some time, he'd like to think he'd know if something had changed. His tailbone was slightly more pronounced, almost threatening to lift out. Again, it was subtle, but there was no mistake. He took one last look into the mirror.

“I'm turning into a fucking squirrel, aren't I?" He asked. Quite a stupid question, really. He just couldn't grapple with this right now. He left the bathroom and paced around his bedroom. That damn dream. That damn book. It's gotta be. There was a part of him that still wanted to deny this, that he was suffering from some sort of condition, or possibly even madness. It wasn't any condition he'd ever heard of, and if he was this crazy, they'd commit him for sure. There was nothing for it. He decided to ride it out and see where it went. Maybe this was it and it wouldn't get any worse. In the meantime, it was back to the internet for any possible medical article that might explain this.

In a mocking twist of fate, the internet gave him almost exclusively results for hair loss, not growth, despite him specifically searching for it. Finally, he found an article that claimed it could be caused by hormone imbalance, but it's usually not a real health issue, and it generally refers to thick, dark hair. This was so thin and light. It was more like… Fur. Just thinking the word sent a shiver down his lengthening spine. As his fingers tapped on the keys, he notices his nails had lengthened, and even pointed slightly. Well, those are getting trimmed right away. That's at least something he could do.

As the clippers snapped the nails away, he winced. Never had it been so uncomfortable to trim his nails. But it was getting done, discomfort or no. He felt a bit better now that those looked normal again. It was definitely lunch time. He was quite hungry, actually.

Keero remembered this morning, how the eggs were oddly disgusting. Even now, thinking about it, he wouldn't even consider eating eggs. Though he supposed squirrels wouldn't like eggs either. No. Don't even think that. He started to make himself a sandwich: two pieces of bread, lettuce, pickles, veggies, cold cuts of meat. As the meat came out of the package, his nose wrinkled. It smelled like death. Even the vinegar of the pickles was a bit much. He made himself a fairly plain veggie sandwich, and ate it happily, although he could barely finish it. He rarely had trouble finishing a sandwich, but this one seemed so large.

As he stood up from the chair where he was eating, a sudden perspective shift hit him. It was subtle, but it made him think: perhaps he was a bit shorter than he used to be. He hadn't lived in this house for a terribly long time, but it was long enough to know how the objects around him looked from his normal standing position. It was back into the bathroom, and that blasted mirror. He dug under the sink and pulled out an old scale. He didn't weigh himself too often, but this was a special case. This would be proof. If he was losing that much height, he'd be getting lighter too. He winced when he saw how hairy, furry his arms had become. The skin was still visible, but the whole forearm was coated in a light blanket of pale grey.

Soon he was on the scale. He took a breath, and stepped up. A significant part of him longed for it to display a weight he knew he hovered around. But there was a strange longing that crept in. If he was noticeably lighter, it would confirm this was indeed happening, that he wasn't crazy, that he was turning into a squirrel. He shivered again. Perhaps this wasn't horrible. It was certainly interesting. If this was real, what other possibilities were there?

The scale calculated only a moment before displaying. His jaw dropped. He was at least fifteen pounds lighter than he remembered.

That was it. This was happening. He was going to be a squirrel. Given how fast the changes were coming on, he guessed he would be a twisted, half-monster by afternoon tomorrow. If he had anything to prepare, he had to do it now, before going to bed tonight. His breath came faster. This was a bit scary. What if he started to lose memory? He'd certainly lose the ability to talk.

What did he need? Food, mostly. He wouldn't be able to open the fridge, and it seemed as though he already had some dietary restrictions he didn't have yesterday. Should he call anyone? What could he say? If he arranged for someone to check on him, they'd just think there was a squirrel in the house, or heaven forbid, some kind of mutant creature. He made a promise to himself that if he kept his memory and intelligence intact, he'd try to reach out to someone and convince them he was smarter than the average squirrel. That might be his only shot to get help.

He took out his phone and called a friend. They had been over to this house only once before, but it was overdue for a visit. He hoped they could come over within a couple days.

“Hello?" They answered.

“H-hey! It's Keero."

“I know who it is, silly. What's up?" Damn. He was nervous. But he can't tell them. Not yet. He'd set things up.

“Ha. I thought we might hang out. I'm busy today, but what about this weekend?"

“Hmm. Yeah, I could probably do that. We do need to catch up. How about 1pm? I need to run some errands in the morning."

“That's wonderful! If I don't answer, just come on in." Was that weird to say?

“Yeah, okay. See you then, man."

The call ended, and better than expected. He just hoped he'd be a full squirrel by then. He went and got some paper and a nice dark Sharpe. Laying it on the living room coffee table, he wrote: Please read! I've turned into a squirrel! Please don't hurt me! I'm trying to keep it together, but please try to help me out! -Keero

Keero looked over the note he had just written several times, trying to decide if he needed to say anything else, or if what he'd written would get the message across. A sudden twitch in his thumbs made him drop the marker. He massaged the meat of his thumbs. They definitely felt a bit thin, and his thumbs seemed shorter. It was a stark reminder that he was on borrowed human-time. It was off to the grocery store.

After a quick glance in the mirror one last time before he headed out, he thought he might as well put on a mask. His face was getting fluffy, and this would hide the worst of it.

He needed to adjust his mirrors in the car again. He knew now it was because he was getting shorter. It wasn't by much: perhaps two inches since this started. As he stood up from the driver's seat, his pants nearly fell off his hips. Damnit! He held them up, his car door open, fiddling with his belt. There were other people here in the parking lot. Perhaps he was paranoid, but he could swear some of them were watching. After missing a couple times, flustered, Keero managed to adjust his belt so they wouldn't just fall off. Come to think of it, his shirt felt pretty baggy too. He tried to focus on the task at hand. Just get in, get what he needs, and get out. He wasn't going to change that much in that span of time if what he'd experienced so far continued at the same pace.

As he shut the car door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the side mirror. Something about his ears looked abnormal. They stuck out more, and had shifted up on his head, making them look off. Not obviously unnatural. Just weird. Another thing to be self-conscious about. Great. He was already here, and he might need this food later. It had to get done. With a sigh, he crossed the distance and entered the building.

So many smells hit him at once: smells he hadn't considered before. All the fruits, the harsh scent of cleaning fluid and plastic, and of course, other people. It was odd to experience a familiar place in an unfamiliar way, but perhaps it could help him. It was like asking his future, squirrelly self what he wanted to eat. To his surprise, most of the fruits seemed too sweet for his nose. Besides, most would be quite large once he was done. At least he assumed he'd go all the way. Stopping halfway was a possibility he didn't want to consider. He put a bag a grapes and some blackberries in his basket. They were small and manageable. It was time for some grains and nuts. Some of the cereals might do, but for some reason the smell wasn't right. It smelled more like plastic and cardboard than food. He found a bag of mixed nuts. That was an easy pick. His mouth was watering already. He wondered how long this would hold him. It would be nice to have a failsafe. After awkwardly pacing the aisles for another minute or two, it finally struck him, and he made his was over to the pet section. Sure enough, there was a nice big bag of bird seed. Squirrels climb sheer poles to get at this stuff all the time, and it was easy to smell why. Each seed was packed with protein, and oils, and they would be easy to shove in his cheeks for a quick getaway. Not that he'd need to do that. Why did he think that? He took his tongue out of his cheek, and hauled the bag up. It was so heavy! He didn't want to ask for help, but it was quite the chore to get it to the register.

The teenager manning the register seemed unenthusiastic about ringing him out. That was, until the lad caught sight of his ears.

“Dude, did you get that modified?" He made a gesture to his own ears, which were gauged. Keero blushed instantly, and stammered a response, fiddling with his card.

“Uh… yes. Yeah, got them done not that long ago."

“Sick. Where?" Damnit.

“Oh, Canada. It's legal there." He'd never seen a card-reader take longer to load in his life.

“I heard about that!" The kid tore off his receipt and handed it over. “Have a nice night."

“You too!" Keero said, his voice cracking. He speed-walked out, feeling his pants slipping down again. He had to stop and adjust them. A sickening panic rose in him as he pulled them back up, and something caught the rim of the waistband from behind. He felt a tug, and the brush of fur. It was his blasted tail, no more than an inch long, but just long enough to get in the way of his pants. His face beat-red, he pulled them over the fluffy nub, and made his way back to his car as fast as he could.

By the time he got back, his thumbs were acting up again. These changes were either coming faster, or compounding on each other to create all sorts of logistic problems. He found it easier to grip the wheel with four fingers and just let his short, stiff thumbs hang free.

It tired him out dragging that bag of bird seed inside, but here he was, nearly sunset, food secured. Before he lost more dexterity, he got a knife and opened the bag up. He likely could have chewed through it, in retrospect. He rubbed his tongue over his front teeth. They had been feeling off for a while now, but now that he was paying attention, they felt abnormally long, not fitting in his mouth right.

He couldn't wait to eat some of those nuts though. He bit into the package, leaving the knife on the table. It was satisfying to feel the resistance on his teeth. It was doubly satisfying to smell the oils of the nuts. He nibbled on one, a hazelnut. It was so tangy and savory. He took his time, letting his front teeth scrape against it, shaving off strips. He noticed suddenly that he had both hands against his face, much like a squirrel would stabilize its meal. Feeling weird about that, he stuffed the nut in his cheek for later, like a normal person. No. That wasn't normal either. He chewed with his molars and finished it.

After a couple more nuts, he gathered the willpower to put the bag down for now. It was time to check the mirror again. He blinked in surprise. His face looked noticeably different. One becomes accustomed to their reflection, and small changes are jarring. These were not small changes. His upper lip had a subtle curl up toward his nose, which pushed out with his cheekbones in what was surely the beginnings of a muzzle. This pushing out of the bone extended to his nose bridge too. He turned his face to the side for profile, where it was much more noticeable. Even as much as it disturbed him to notice, they were small changes. It was only going to get worse. His cheeks were totally coated in thin fur. He was glad he wore that mask.

He ran his hands over his stomach and hips, feeling how much thicker the fur had gotten in the last couple hours. Reaching back, he traced the base of his tail with two fingers. It was still bony and a bit uncomfortable to play with, but it was much fluffier than before. In fact, that's where most of the fur on his body was.

Playing with his tail soon caused his pants to fall off again. Screw pants. He stepped out of them for the night. Even his underwear was starting to feel loose. Now that he had the time to look, his shirt looked like he was a child wearing an adult-sized top. It came down a bit past his waist. A strange thought came to him. He took the shirt off too, and looked at himself mostly nude.

The changes were changing his body shape as a whole. His arms were getting skinny. His legs were hard to straighten normally. His torso was thicker. Perhaps it was this moment it truly sank in: this was happening, and there was no turning back from it. Of course, surely, this wasn't permanent. It was supposed to be some kind of magic spell, or prayer to some forest spirits. It would, he didn't know, run out of juice at some point. It had to. But the fact remained: by tomorrow, he'd be looking quite inhuman.

Getting to bed was equally strange. As he laid there, little noises from the wind outside, or creaks of the house would startle him. What was he afraid of? He took a deep breath and tried to think of anything else but what he'd wake up as. He'd be hunched. His tail would be longer. His face might not look right anymore.

A tingle between his legs began. It ran down his legs, and up into his chest. It wasn't wholly unfamiliar, though it felt stiffer, and sharper. It was of course, the first wave of arousal. His paw reached down to explore under his underwear. His cock felt odd. It was smoother. Its mushroom head was more even and tapered, and his skin! It was raw, and sensitive. He didn't dare risk scraping his lengthening nails against it. Even so, his arousal persisted. With only four fingers, he started stroking. The new skin of his cock wasn't the only thing different. The insides of his fingertips had grown puffy and soft, suddenly getting skinnier down the next knuckle. He had to adjust how he normally stroked himself, taking a more wrapping grip. Electric pulses ran through his hips. This was building fast! Why was he jerking off while turning into a squirrel? This situation didn't arouse him, did it? Maybe he just needed this.

His paw stopped for a moment to appreciate how his balls had changed. He thought they felt off, but he thought it was fur growing down here. No! They had gotten a bit bigger! He cupped them and tested their new weight, feeling the fur that now coated them. That's it. He had to cum now. His paw moved back up, working faster. Those electric jolts returned. They built fast! One more internal muscle spasm, and he was spurting onto his fluffy stomach. The orgasm didn't last that long. It was intense, but it faded quickly. With it came an embarrassing clarity. He wiped himself clean with a tissue, and tried to get some sleep. He wasn't enjoying this. He just had to cum.

This time, he knew which tree had the fresh acorns. With quick feet, he scampered up, up the trunk. The others hadn't gotten to the tallest branches yet, and he was a confident jumper. The wind was strong up here, but he didn't mind. It felt good in his fur. There was a big clump of acorns! No. It was that Fae again. It's brilliant purples, reds, yellows, fading in and out, shifting, like the sunset. Its whole form flickered, and suddenly it was right next to him. He was startled, but he wouldn't run this time.

“What do you want, spirit?" He chirped. The Fae spoke without speaking.

“I already have what I want. See?" Both he and the Fae were on the forest floor in the blink of an eye. That was disorienting. The Fae rose up on its hind legs and grew bigger, bigger. Its strobing colors faded to a smooth tan; its fur melted away. A human towered above him. “I've gotten all I need from you, poor thing. I hope you are satisfied with our transaction."

He couldn't understand what the Fae was talking about. It was like he'd lost something dear to him, but he couldn't remember what that was. He felt so cheated, yet how could he if he'd never lost anything? He was rooted to the spot as the human walked away, whistling a cheerful tune. The tune became grating, and rhythmic. It sounded like an alarm clock.

Keero's eyes flickered open. His alarm was so loud! He turned in bed to reach for his phone, and was instantly aware something was wrong. His body twisted differently. His torso was thick, his shoulders were small, and forward-facing. Most of all, his thighs were wide. As he reached, not only did he barely reach his bedside table, but his arm was totally coated in fur. His paw was truly a paw now. His thumb was still there, but it was a nub resting on the side of his wrist. He couldn't move it at all.

With some difficulty, he picked up his blaring phone and struggled to swipe away the alarm. He was successful, and the silence was blissful. He laid back, the large phone resting on his fluffy chest. Even without looking at himself, he felt different. He was uncomfortable in his own skin, and his mind couldn't help but try to take stock of everything that had changed. As he laid on his back, a tension at his spine let him know he was sitting on his tail. He turned over and let it free. To his amazement, and slight fear, he found that if he tried, he could move it. He flicked it against the bed a couple times. It was stiff, and awkward, perhaps three inches long, and full of thick fur.

He was also nude. He didn't remember going to sleep nude. He had his underwear on at least. He looked around and found them scrunched up under the blankets, which were quite heavy. He must have slipped out of them during the night. They were huge! He tried to put them back on, but the leg holes were comically large, even though his thighs seemed thicker proportionately. The underwear might function as a makeshift pillow if rolled up. His current pillow was getting uncomfortable to lean against.

Keero sat up, and slung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet didn't touch the ground. He must have lost nearly a foot of height overnight. As his feet touched down, he felt how strange his new claws were on the carpet. The nails were long, and curved downward. He could pick at the carpet with them. Taking a few steps on his new hips was awkward too. He had to move in a waddling gait, shifting his weight from one side to the other. He wanted to make it to the bathroom. Not only did he need to pee, but he'd like to get another look at himself.

He thought perhaps it might be easier to walk on all fours. It felt somewhat natural to sink down on his front paws, but as he shuffled forward, it was clear he was either going to need to practice that, or he wasn't quite ready to make the transition down there yet. He kept waddling to the bathroom and saw the doorknob was at his chest height. The door was so large!

Once inside, he reached up and flicked on the light. He could still reach that, but perhaps by tonight he wouldn't. Only his face was visible due to his height at first, but that was enough to get the message across. His face had pushed out another inch at least. His nose bridge was thick and wide, merging with his forehead. The skin was still mostly visible, but the fur now covered his entire face. The hair on his head was getting shorter and thinner too. His ears had shifted up the side of his head, and fanned out, looking very rodent-like now. Yet the strangest part was how human his proportions still were with all these changes. It was very much in the uncanny valley, and the longer he stared at it, the more embarrassed and uncomfortable he became. He was a freak!

“Ohee new." He tried to mutter. His voice was high-pitched, and while he could still form words, they were difficult and distorted by the narrowing of his palate, and perhaps even the shape of his tongue. It was so strange he had to try again.

“Unng… Ceen aie skeek? Mm… Shoot av." He knew the words he wanted to say. There was a disconnect between what he was telling his mouth to do, and what it actually did. He opened his mouth and took a look at his new teeth. His molars had shrunk and sunk deeper into his gums. His jaw had narrowed, and his front teeth on the top and the bottom had grown thin and long. They were also yellowed, something he didn't anticipate. He scratched at them with a hooked claw, but the yellow was just part of his enamel.

The urge to pee pushed again. It was quite difficult to ignore too. He felt it might just start coming out if he didn't take care of it quickly. He waddled over to the toilet and lifted the seat. His waist was only a little higher than the bowl, but it would work for now. He wondered what he was going to do tonight. By then he'd need a new strategy.

With his thumbless paws, he braced his smooth pink cock forward. It had only a slight flare where his mushroom tip once was. His large balls didn't hang between his legs, but more in front. The thin stream of urine came quick, and didn't last long. It also had a distinct odor that wasn't unpleasant. It was familiar.

He wanted to see his whole body. Without thinking much, he gripped the edge of the bathroom sink and jumped up. His legs could scrunch up under his hips pretty close. This helped get his feet under him quickly. Instinctively he tried to move his short tail to balance himself, but it wasn't doing much. The hunched, twisted creature in the mirror shocked him. The way his legs folded to enable this squatting posture he would never have been able to hold before, the way his shoulders pointed forward, not to the side, it was enough to make him unrecognizable. He brushed his fur with his claws. Again, not thinking much, he gave his paw a few long licks, and ran the newly wet claws down his flanks, as if his fur not being smooth enough was body-image problem he was having right now.

His claws slipped on the smooth surface of the sink, and his heart skipped a beat as he fell. He landed softer than he might have thought, on all fours. It felt like he had instinctively turned his body to brace his fall. Now his heart was pumping. It was going so fast, as if he'd just gotten back from a run. His mind raced. He had to get up high. That would be much safer.

On all fours, he went down the steps headfirst, and reached the back door which overlooked the yard, and those trees at the edge of the lawn. Rearing up on his hind legs, he put both claws up against the glass. Those trees were so inviting. With his new build, he was sure he could climb them. The wind would be so refreshing, and who knows, there could be snacks to find up there.

Keero squinted his eyes shut and pushed his head into the glass. That urge was so strong, but he can't leave the house. Not like this. Not halfway. It was worse than being a squirrel. If he was hungry for whatever was up those trees, he had plenty of food right here. And he was hungry.

He remained on two legs, waddling back into the kitchen. Thankfully he had the forethought to leave the food on a chair. He could still reach that. Once he was fully squirrel that wouldn't be a problem.

Those blackberries looked perfect. With his teeth he pulled the container open and sniffed his reward. They were sickly sweet even to smell, with a bitter after-scent. He picked one up in both paws and popped it between his teeth. It burst with juice, some of it getting on his fur. The bitter-sweet sent a jolt up into his brain. This was good stuff! When he encountered a seed, he would carefully place it between his front teeth and crush it in one swift gnaw. He wasn't sure he got all the seeds, but it wasn't concerning. After three berries and a couple grapes he felt energized and satisfied. He could eat more, but he'd save the rest for later. He'd be hungry again in about an hour, surely.

Washing the juice off his fur was a bit of a chore when the sink was so high up. He had to crouch up on the kitchen sink and give himself a bath. But now he sat in the living room on the sofa. He had become fascinated with his feet. He picked one up and held it closer to his face. The way his squat proportions worked now, he could lick it without difficulty, and did so a few times. The way it moved was odd. He rotated it in his hands. It seemed so flexible. He wondered how far it could go. He twisted his right foot around, clockwise. It kept going, past ninety degrees, almost one eighty. That's when it finally encountered resistance. That would come in handy climbing.

The foot itself was thinner. The toes were longer, ending in hooked claws. He had no urge whatsoever to trim them. That would be very uncomfortable, and it would hurt his ability to climb. While the toes were thin, a blub was forming under each tip. A paw pad for grip. More pads swelled out from what was once the ball of his foot, individual for each toe, not one lump.

His curiosity satisfied for now, he lowered his foot and saw a note on the coffee table. Oh yes, that's right. He'd left that there yesterday. He waddled over to it, as a new insecurity came: could he still read? That was a key part of retaining his intelligence. He ought to be testing that more. If he lost that, or his personality, this was going to be very difficult.

His beady eyes squinted at the words. They scrambled together. It was just markings, scratches someone had made randomly. No no. There was meaning there. He wasn't that far gone, damnit.

Plee red! I're turnbd imto a skeerl! Peez don hurk mea! I trye to keet ip togheter, bup pleeg tui to hek ma oul! -Cyro

The last part upset him most. That was his name! Cyro. Kyro. Keebo. Keero! He picked up the Sharpe on the table in both hands. He can still write his name. He has to. Carefully, he shifted the pen into one paw, wrapped in his four fingers point-down. He pressed it to the paper and tried to make the scratches like the ones he saw above. K. E. E. These scratches were frighteningly devoid of meaning. R. O. Yes! He put the pen down and looked at it. The penmanship was awful, but it was indeed his name. He remembered. He would need to practice this more. There was no way he was going to forget that, at least.

He proceeded to practice on a couple new sheets of paper for the next couple hours. He mostly wrote his name, but once he tried to write a new message for when his friend came over.

I am tring to writ agan. Its hard to reme… rember… remember how wurds go. I wont forgit. You hav to halp me wen you git her. Tak car of me until I get beter. -Keero

He reread what he wrote four, five times. He can still write. He wasn't going to lose it. His paw ached with the effort. It wasn't meant to be held so stiffy for so long.

Was language the only thing slipping? He'd experienced several impulses that didn't feel like his own: the urge to climb up high, to stuff food in his cheeks and hide it somewhere else, the fear of little noises in the house. But could he still remember things that happened in the past? He just sat here for a while and tried to reconstruct some memories. They seemed clear enough. He remembered a birthday party he had a couple years ago. He remembered going to a convention. That was great. He remembered when he got really drunk that one time. Not so much after that. Heh. Yeah, his memory was okay. He tried to think back further. He remembered some of the things he used to get up to at school: some very boring, and some very wild times. He remembered a classroom. What was he learning? That's what was fuzzy. The books he read, the math and science, it wasn't adding up anymore. It's not that he didn't remember them. They just didn't make sense.

A warm, spreading tickle started at his groin again. Was it because he was feeling so helpless under these changes? He wasn't into that, was he? No, it's just these giant balls. He sat back, letting his tail drape behind him. He watched his clawed, four fingered hand reach down and coax his raw, pink shaft out of hiding. It was so electric to touch it. When need came, it came hard. He let his weight sink back into the base of the sofa and surrendered to the feeling. He was just a dumb animal who needed to cum. His paw took a grip and started to rub. It felt so involuntary. Every stoke made his rodent-mouth open and gasp. His heart thumped like he had just got done a marathon. In only a few more strokes, that thump was pushing his seed out of that smooth, damp cock. It pumped perhaps three times before settling down, and it was over. He didn't bother cleaning himself up. He just curled up there on the floor for a while, his mind trying to come to grips with his condition, his tail twitching, longer than it ever had been behind him.

He must have fallen asleep for a short time. It was thankfully still light when he awoke. He was hungry again. He crawled on all fours over to the bag of bird seed and started to fill his cheeks. He'd take these under the sofa and eat them at his leisure. It might not be safe out here in the open. He was three pawfuls in before it struck him as odd. He let the seeds fall out of his mouth and he stood up to take stock of the changes.

The first thing was that he was definitely shorter. He couldn't be more than three feet tall now. His ribs were invisible under the thickness of the torso, melding into his hips in one, squat, fur-coated chunk. His thick knees could allow him to sit right down on his haunches, almost folding in out of the way. He flicked his tail to gauge its length before turning around and drawing it into his paws. It was about half the length he was, and so fluffy! He ran his claws through it, smoothing out the fur, grooming. That's when he noticed something else flicker into his vision. He wiggled his pointy nose. Thin, wispy whiskers moved with it.

A noise outside drew his attention. He waddled on two legs over to the window. Someone was walking their dog down the road! This perfectly normal sight was enough to cause the fur on his back and tail to bristle. His mouth hung open, and he let out an involuntary chirp.

“Chip!" He covered his mouth with a paw, and backed away from the window. He was so threatened by that dog. That beast could eat him! He tried to take a deep breath, but his lung capacity stopped short. His breath needed to come in shallower, quicker bursts, and it by the rushing in his ears, so did his heart. He put mind over matter. He was still three feet tall. He was past halfway, for certain, but he was indoors. They were going to just walk past, and sure enough, they did. This ordeal made him think: what is he going to do when he can't open doors anymore? If he needed any openings, now might be his last chance.

He walked around the house, making sure all the doors were open, even the closet. He wondered though, should he leave the back door a crack? Something could come in! That thought was far more pressing than it had any right to be. A dog or a cat coming inside without his knowledge became his life's worst-case scenario. He shuddered, and decided to leave it closed, as much as he wanted to climb those oaks out there.

If that's where he spoke the prayer, maybe the Fae creature who heard it was still out there? He watched through the window for some time, seeing how the wind caught the leaves, how the branches swayed. He instinctively judged how he might jump from branch to branch, and it excited him. But there was no sign of anything strange up there, especially not any creatures like he saw in his dream. That creature was small, but it was so colorful and surreal, surely he'd see it if it was there.

He had to pee again, damnit. He shuffled back into the bathroom and approached the toilet. His waist was below the rim now. This wasn't going to work. Carefully, he tipped the seat back down, and climbed up onto it. His wide hips made straddling the opening easy, and he squatted there on all fours to do his business. It worked for now. This was a temporary solution.

One of the doors he'd opened was the closet, and from it he retrieved a towel. It was a full-size blanket to him now. He made himself a little nest at the foot of his bed, then lined it with paper towels. Hopefully that would do once he was small enough to fit in it comfortably.

Water was becoming an issue too. Getting up on the sink was awkward in this transitionary state, but it wasn't the jump he was worried about. Operating the sink may get harder. He used what little time he had left with this stature to collect some bowls, fill them with water, and leave them in random places around the house. The urge to hide them under the bed or the couch was great, but he didn't need to hide them. He wasn't eating or drinking as much anymore, so hopefully that would keep him for a few days. Hopefully his friend would come rescue him. The thought of being trapped in the house was scary too, but how could he trust the door open? How could he trust himself not to leave the house and just go off into the woods?

He hopped up on the counter, and got that knife he'd left there. There was only one chance to do this. By tomorrow this would be impossible. He opened the back door, and propped it open in case the wind took it. The screen door was still closed. It was his plan to cut a squirrel-sized hole in the screen. It had to be so small that even a cat couldn't squeeze through it. That would be hard to gauge. A determined cat could get into all sorts of places, but so could a squirrel.

Instead of cutting right away, he looked out longingly at those trees again. Now that the fresh air was hitting him, he could smell the grass, the rotting leaves blanketing the forest floor, even the scents of other animals, including a squirrel or two. He wondered what they were up to, if they'd stored much for the winter yet, how many were females. He shook his head, and gripped the knife in both paws again. With some effort, he pushed it through the screen. He imagined he'd be cutting a nice little square hole, but now that he was doing it, that seemed impossible. Still, this slit might be enough. He withdrew the knife and set it on the coffee table. Then he went back and poked his fingers through the slit. Could a squirrel fit its head and hips through that? Would he even remember this was here by tomorrow? He thought so, but it was good to make sure. He got a sticky note and wrote in a shaky hand: Eksit, complete with a nice arrow. He'd just have to trust his future squirrelly self would remember.

That night, he jumped up into bed. He wasn't terribly tired, and he likely wouldn't sleep all night long. He was still mostly bipedal, but that would change by morning. That was scary. The scents and sounds coming in from the open screen door downstairs were also scary. His mind played out every possible scenario of a creature approaching the screen. Would he smell it? Would the sound wake him up? Squirrels had a lot to worry about, it seemed. One thing he wouldn't worry about was getting up on time. He turned his alarm off this time. He might not even be able to turn it off tomorrow.

He was short enough now that his pillow was a bit too big for him, yet he wasn't so small that it could be a bed all on its own. Instead, he just curled up beside it. Retaining his intelligence and memory was what scared him most of all. He tried to remember how his name was spelled, and traced the letters with a sleepy claw on the sheet. It was such a simple thing, but it kept him grounded.

It was tough climbing these shining marble steps as a squirrel. It was especially difficult because of how the stars would glint off them, making them change dimension, stretching and sinking. Nothing was real in this place, and that meant everything was. A tall, resolute humanoid at the gates held a spear of spiraling crystal.

“You come to bargain again, flesh-thing? You have some nerve."

“Just let me talk to the one who did this." The being thought, then tapped his spear on the non-floor. The gates pushed inward, then folded out. The Fae squirrel hopped into view.

“The dreamlands are not a place of business." It scolded. “Besides. You have little to offer me now."

“Not true. I plead for this to be temporary, and that it leave my intelligence intact." The creature scoffed.

“Why should I grant this? You stated no terms on your initial plea. I took what I wanted."

“I can perform a service in the material world, a place you seem to have trouble reaching." It thinks.

“I can get others to do that for me. But… it's true flesh-things don't bargain as much as they used to. It's become quite boring. Very well. I'll THINK about this. In the meantime, your side of our initial deal hasn't quite completed. Return to your waking-dream, and see the consequences." It chirped at him so loud it shattered the air like glass.

Keero awoke with a twitch. These dreams were getting whackier. He didn't realize squirrels dreamt so heavily.

He lifted his head up from the sheets. The bed was enormous! He picked up his leg and stretched out his toes. His legs were so squat they almost blended in with his hips and torso. The fur was completely covering now. His thin toes curled into claws, with full, round pads to soften them. His hands were much the same, but a bit more dexterous. Not even a nub remained of his thumbs.

His paws came to rest on his snout. His entire face had pushed forward into one wedge shape. The little pointy nub at the end was his nose, and it was extremely sensitive to the touch as well as it's ability to smell. His own scent was different, but he also smelled human on these sheets. Himself in the past, he realized. His long tail flicked nervously. It was nearly the same size as he was, bushy and full. He could flick it with a great deal of control. He spent a long time running his paws over his new body: down his soft stomach, between his legs, around those massive balls, down his legs, and back, up his neck, feeling how the fur brushes against the grain, and along his snout. He liked his paws to taste himself, and to wet them for grooming. He pulled his tail between his legs to brush it out.

Only his hunger caused him to stop. He crawled on all fours to the edge of the bed and looked down. It was quite a drop, but he judged it, and jumped down. The landing was soft. Even the bush of his tail seemed to provide air resistance when he was this light. An odd thought crept in: could he walk on two feet? He reared up, and shuffled forward. It was technically possible, but far from ideal. He sank back down to a more comfortable position, and started to sniff out his food. Oh yes. It was downstairs where he'd left it. Not very well hidden. He'd have to bring some back up here where he slept and hide it. Who knows what could happen to it if he left it out.

The steps downstairs were strange to manage. He lowered his front down the step, brought his back legs down to brace his claws into the carpet, which let him lower his front down the next step. By the time he got down, it was starting to click. It wasn't so hard.

Grapes! Berries! Seeds! Nuts! What a feast someone has left! He scurried over and could scarcely choose between them. He stuffed his cheeks and brought them upstairs, one load at a time, pushing them into the bundled towel on the floor until he felt like he had enough. Only then did he let himself eat. A whole grape, and a whole pecan! A meal fit for a king. He even found some water in a bowl nearby. It made him need to pee, but he just let that out right here on these soft towels. It was his nest after all. It should smell like him. In thinking that, something struck him as odd. Should he not have done that? He took a long look at his paws, his skinny, furry arms. Oh!

He jumped up on the bathroom sink. It wasn't too difficult. He could jump a long distance, especially compared to his size. He stood up on his hind legs and observed himself in the mirror.

The beady black eyes of a squirrel stared back at him. It was completely unfamiliar. He turned his head to the side, seeing how wedge-like his profile was. He was perhaps a foot tall now. A little big for a squirrel, but he'd soon settle in to his final size. The process was nearly done.

He put a paw up onto the mirror, standing up on his haunches, his claws tapping the glass. His whiskers twitched. His tiny nose couldn't help but keep sniffing around. There was nothing left to see of his human form. He opened his mouth and tried to say his name.

“Cheea. Ekko." That was about as close as he could get. Speech was gone completely. Was writing? He remembered making the notes yesterday. His friend would be over tomorrow. He just had to survive one more day as a squirrel. Then he'd have help.

Back downstairs. Up on the coffee table. He looked down at the paper with the scratches on it. He remembered making them, but he wasn't sure what he was thinking at the time. The markings didn't mean anything at all, even though he remembered they used to. His snout turned to the foul-smelling Sharpe sitting nearby. It seemed so important before. It was a tool to express his feelings. How was that possible again? Could he even get the cap off?

After wrestling with the pen, he finally resorted to biting the cap off, even though it smelled so terrible. He held it in both paws, bracing it against his fluffy chest. It was smelly-side down on the paper. That much was clear. As he dragged the tip over the page, it left a mark, sort of like the ones above. After scribbling down some lines and loops, it was becoming hopeless that anything would return to him. Or would it? He looked at the most common scratches on these pages. Over and over. What was that? It was important. If he couldn't read it, perhaps he could remember what he was doing when he wrote it. It wasn't his memory that was faulty.

It was his name! Yes! He wasn't going to forget. He scratched some more. F. P. P. K. O. Keero! Perfect. He hadn't lost it.

After a snack, and a short nap, he got to exploring the house again. He found some of the bowls of water. Eventually he found himself sitting by the screen door, looking out over the lawn. Those trees were so inviting. He could scramble up them in an instant. That's where he wanted to be, not here, though there was food here.

There was another bit of paper he remembered putting there before. It had another scratch on it. But right next to it, there was a slit in the screen. What an odd coincidence. He sniffed at the slit, and pushed his head against it. His head fit through. He used his tiny paws to spread it open. He might just be able to fit through this in another few hours, once he was done shrinking.

The fresh air, all the smells, they were calling him outside. Food inside! But he couldn't stop. He squeezed through the screen harder. His hips pushed and stretched against the material. It wouldn't budge. If it wasn't big enough, it could be made wider! His teeth would do the trick. With a few short gnaws, it was wide enough to wriggle through.

He was out! With a few energetic bounds on all fours, he found himself on the lawn. The grass was so nice on his paw-pads! He flopped onto his side to feel it against his fur. But that turned his attention to the sky. The wide, blue sky. His little eyes went wide. Anything could be up there, watching, waiting. He righted himself and scampered across the yard to those oaks. Those lovely oaks. The trees towered above him, like skyscrapers. And that's not where the city analogy ended. Many squirrels visited these trees, and possibly even lived in one of them.

Could he climb all the way up there? Of course he could! This was what he was meant to do. He jumped up and caught himself on the bark with his claws. The little hooks were enough to hold him up, even on this vertical surface. His feet did just as much work as his hands. Those talons almost allowed him to stand up they felt so sturdy. This was easy! Using his hooks, he clambered up. It was a long way, but he could go fast. It was no time until he reached the first branch, way up high. He crawled out onto it and looked down at his house and the lawn. He felt much safer up here. The wind blew gently, rustling all the leaves. He closed his eyes and enjoyed it. This was so right. It was exactly where he needed to be.

Just the sound of acorns knocking together made one of his round ears turn. One branch up, there was a cluster, ripe and ready. With an excited chitter, he went back to the trunk and used it to get up another level. He needed to walk out on a thinner branch, but he was so light, that wasn't an issue. He placed his paws carefully, and got just above the cluster. He reached down and brought the whole bunch up to his mouth. With his teeth, he plucked the stem of one of them, and drew it up. He got one! A warm glow faded into his chest. He got an acorn himself. He held it in his paws, turning it over, admiring it. A soft tension in his teeth let him know what to do. He gnawed the cap right off, then stuffed the whole thing into his cheek. Now, where was his nest? In the house!

Again, his more rational, perhaps more human side kicked in. He didn't mean to come all the way up here. He was so high up. Anything could get at him out here! The house was safe. The house was where his friend was going to find him. He can't go wild yet. How was he going to get down?

The acorn still firmly in his cheek, he climbed back onto the trunk. His front paws gripped, but it wasn't as good of a grip as going up was. The hooks were pointing the wrong way, and he couldn't twist his hands around going down. How did squirrels get down headfirst like that?

He recalled how flexible his feet were. His tail flicked at the possibility. One leg stretched back, and he rotated his ankle a full one-eighty. It was perfect. The hooks on his toes clung to the bark. The ankles were a bit stiff, like they weren't used to this kind of treatment, but he was so happy he figured it out, he spared no time crawling back down the considerable distance to the ground.

By the time he reached the bottom, his ankles weren't stiff anymore. It was perfectly natural. There was the screen door, across the yard. Such a long distance to cover being so small. Open spaces were a big source of anxiety. He gathered himself, and made the run over in many little leaps. Up, down, up, down. He shoved his prize acorn through the hole, then himself. The hole was plenty large enough for him. It barely brushed him at all.

Sleep came and went in short bursts now, as did meals. He would nibble, then spend a few minutes tidying his den, and hiding more seeds around the house. He never knew when he'd need them. Night fell, and he barely noticed. Only a couple lights were left on in the house. He nestled back into his bed on the towel. He could curl up into a very tiny ball when he wanted to. His own tail was a blanket. He was getting used to how his fur would brush against these paper towels. He was getting used to his short, shallow breaths, his bucktoothed mouth hanging open, his tiny nose constantly sniffing. This was his body now. Idly, he tired to imagine what it was like to be a human. So tall and big and clumsy. He was a bit glad he wasn't one of those, but he remembered he used to be one. Yes, all the memories were still there. They had different meaning now. He was a squirrel now, truly. It was hard to imagine how bumbling and loud he used to be. This wasn't so bad.

Soon enough, his little pink cock had emerged quite on its own again. That wasn't so bad either. He was in the comfort of his own nest, his own scent all around. The soft paper towels were nice to wiggle against, and perhaps even hump into. There wasn't anything left of Keero's humanity, but if any of it remained, he'd blow it out with this next load. As he thrust into a damp part of the towel, he got a wonderful idea. He rolled onto his side, and used his new flexibility to lean his muzzle in and sniff at his own crotch. His whiskers tickled his overly-sensitive shaft. The scent stung with its potency, but it was unmistakably him: his old urine, the odor building down in his sheath, those heavy, fluffy balls. He made sure to nuzzle each one in turn, even poking his nose under his balls for a moment, feeling the weight on his head.

A squirrel's arousal builds fast. He needed more. He licked at his own cock, his tongue lighting with the bitter tastes. It was so smooth. Each lick was enough to make his wide hips shudder, his tail twitch. Perhaps ten seconds he licked before pushing down, suckling on it like a newborn, coaxing it to give. His breath came hot from his tiny nose. His beady eyes had trouble staying open, but he had a lovely view of those balls hanging bellow him, and the pitiful flicking of his tail when they did peek. He was fully squirrel, and there was nothing to be done about it now. The pulse from his rapid heart became a constant surge from balls to tip. He let out a tiny squeak and let go, tasting his hot seed, bitter and salty.

Keero pulled away to lick his lips and let his mind settle. His tiny lungs worked, puffing for air. He was quite tired now, and it was the most natural thing in the world to curl back up, occasionally licking himself clean.

Tomorrow morning, after a fashion, he remembered his friend was coming over. Those markings he made two days ago were super important. If he thought about it really hard, he could remember that they would communicate an idea to a human. Squirrels were naturally nervous creatures, and anticipating a big, stompy human in your nesting grounds wasn't a pleasant thought. Why did he need them to come over again? That's right. He needed help. But what for? Obviously, he was a squirrel, but he could get along just fine. Perhaps the human would feed him. That would take some getting used to. If his old scents were any indication, humans were quite smelly creatures. But food was food. His past self would have wanted him to wait this out, he decided.

Keero thought he might check the mirror one more time. The changes were done now. What did he look like as a squirrel? It was an odd question, especially since he felt less curious about it than he used to. A squirrel doesn't need to see himself, but he remembered how much he'd changed. He should know.

He made the jump back up onto the sink. The surface was slippery under his claws. He had to use his pads to grip. In the mirror, crouched up on the rim of the sink, was a healthy grey squirrel, with a lovely bushy tail. He stood up on his hind legs to reveal his soft, lighter-colored stomach. He held his paws close to his chest, pointed down. He tried to remember how his arms used to hang at his sides like two broken tree branches. So gangly.

His legs tucked under him, almost disappearing into his hips. It made it easy to sit anywhere. What were chairs for again? Of course, that heavy pair of nuts between his legs was the main feature down there at the base of his stomach. They were totally fur-covered. It actually helped with the feeling of being naked. He didn't that mind at all.

The most unsettling thing was perhaps his head; his own face, now fully squirrel. He brushed a paw over his snout, and scratched over his thick nose bridge that blended right into his forehead. It was a strange, dysphoric feeling. This can't be him, but it was. The longer he spent as a squirrel, the less it bothered him. He recalled how embarrassed and uncomfortable some of these changes had been. Now that it was over, he was just a squirrel. Perhaps an oddly self-conscious squirrel. It would be neat to meet another. Would they be able to communicate? Would his behavior be strange to them? Was he really thinking about going out and socializing with other squirrels?

The doorbell rang! It was so loud! He scampered under the sofa and stayed quiet. The door opened. Sure enough, it was his friend.

“Hello? It's me. You said to come in." They shut the door behind them, and shuffled around on those huge, loud feet. “Keero? Your car is here. Where are you?" Yes, that was his name. Oh no. What if he didn't see the scratching? The human looked around a little longer.

“Huh… Seeds? What are you up to?" Finally, the human shuffled his way into the living room. He stopped over the coffee table. Was he looking at the papers? There were several at this point between all his practice, but the messages were still there.

“…Please help me… Keero? Keero?! This is really weird, man. Where the hell are you? Ug… lemmie call his phone." That phone wouldn't do any good. It was upstairs, and he wasn't going to answer. It was now or never. His little heart was going so fast. He crawled out from under the sofa and looked up at his friend, rising up on his haunches. They looked down from their phone with a start.

“Oh God!" They almost dropped the phone, taking a step back. “There's really a squirrel in the house! Keero! This isn't funny!" His phone started ringing upstairs. He had to do something. Something… not squirrel-like. But he'd become so used to this so quickly. What could he do? He jumped up on the coffee table, stood up on his hind legs, and waved with one little paw. He remembered this at least. It was hard to read human emotion on their faces, but the expression certainly changed, the brows furrowing, the eyes squinting.

“You taught it to wave? Hey, little guy. Huh. I've never seen a squirrel wave before." Yes, that's good. He needed something else to convince him. Keero picked up the Sharpe again, holding it against his body in the only way he could. He started to poke at the message, looking back at his friend after each poke.

“I see it. You're serious? Hey, can I…?" His friend knelt down on the floor and extended a hand. Out of a sudden burst of fear, Keero withdrew from the hand, the Sharpe clattering to the table. But this was important. Human thoughts now. He crept back, stood up, and put a paw on their finger. What was another gesture? Nodding! He could do that. He nodded twice.

“Woah. Wait. Wait. Nod again if you're Keero. What am I talking about… That's nu-" Keero nodded again. “Nuts…" They stopped to consider this. “Can you write?" Keero thought. Technically yes, but he wasn't sure how words went anymore. His message should explain that. He pointed again.

“Oh. Yeah, okay. You are forgetting how words work? Holy shit. Okay. You need help? What can I do?" Keero didn't know how to express what he needed. What did he need again? He barely knew himself. He'd like to be outside again. No no. That's not what his past-self wanted. Think!

“You've got food and stuff around I see. Was that you, preparing for this? What happened to you? You… can't answer me, can you?" Keero shook his head, sadly. Even this response seemed to blow his friend's mind.

“Wow. Okay. I guess we can play some yes/no games. How long ago did this start? This morning?" Keero shook his head. “Yesterday" No. “Longer? Two days? Three?" Nod. “Damn. Why didn't you say anything?" He wasn't sure. He wanted to go outside again. He jumped off the table.

“Wait, where are you going?" The stompy human followed him back to the screen door. He jumped through the hole, and crawled out onto the lawn.

“Hold on. Keero? I don't understand." Keero looked back at his friend. It made sense now. His friend couldn't help him. This wasn't going to get fixed in time. He had to explore these woods and find that creature who took his humanity. He stood up on his hind legs again, and shook his head sadly, slowly.

“I don't get it. What do you need me to do?" Keero turned and scampered for the oaks again. “Wait!" Stomping steps chased him. It was a bit intimidating, but he knew he was faster. He was up that tree before the human had even reached the base. He looked down at the human with his black, beady eyes. If things went well, he'd return as a human, lost in the woods. If not. Well… he'd have to decide if life out here, or as his friend's pet was preferable. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. His memory wasn't clouded. His thoughts were clear. He had a plan now. He shook his head again, waved, chirped once, then turned away. His little paws found the end of this branch. He guarded the distance, and made the jump. He used his tail to subtly redirect his air resistance, and he landed nicely on another tree's branch. He could move through the whole woods like this, never touching the earth. His friend's calls grew distant after a while. There was no way they could keep up. They wouldn't understand. Not until this was all over. Keero was a squirrel now. He might as well get comfortable with that until he could find this crazy creature again, even in his dreams.